Change
by Aelan Greenleaf
Summary: *Sequel to IRONY* When Trip is given the chance to rejoin his friends, will he take it? And what are the consequences? **Chapter 4 uploaded**
1. Introduction

White.

It was around him, in him. It was him. His world was the white. And he loved it.

He could see anything in it. Galaxies, millions of trillions of lightyears away from earth. Dark matter, was not so dark to him. Uncountable amounts of species and creatures were all know to him.

But these things did not interest him.

He loved to watch where he had once been. Places where he had lived. People he once knew. He could connect with them on a subconscious level, deep down inside them. It comforted him, to know they were happy.

He was not alone, though, inside the white. The alien species that had permitted him to join them was also present. The Illuminari, as they were called. It was not a name born of vain, it was a name given to them from the ones they helped. A giving, kind species, they had long ago shed their corporeal bodies, like so many higher races do.

Like he had done himself.

But the Illuminari had given him a mission. No, not a mission: a choice. The option to return from where he had once came. No regrets, no consequences. Just the fortune of rejoining his friends and family.

And he was going to take it.


	2. Chapter 1

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed stomped down the hallway. //Bloody hell!// he thought to himself. //This damn headache is going to be the death of me.//  
  
He gingerly rubbed his forehead, as if hoping that the touch of his hand would soothe it. The throbbing pain didn't stop; it only seemed to get worse.  
  
//I wonder if I hit myself over the head with a phase pistol, would that be any less pain!// he grumbled, his annoyance reaching a high point.  
  
He was rounding a corner, when one of his feet slammed into something.  
  
"Damn!" he yelled out, leaning on a wall to rub his foot.  
  
Then he noticed it. His foot hadn't connected with something, rather, it was someone.  
  
He quickly knelt down, the pain of his foot forgotten.  
  
"I'm quite sorry-" he started, then stopped when he noticed who it was.  
  
The face of Commander Charles Tucker III looked up at him from the ground.  
  
**********  
  
"You found him in a hallway?"  
  
"Yes sir!" said Malcolm quickly. "I ran into him, literally."  
  
Jon Archer sighed. This was going to be a long night.  
  
He turned to Doctor Phlox. "And?"  
  
The doctor kept looking at the man in the cell. "I have no reason to believe that this man is not Charles Tucker."  
  
The Captain blinked twice. "Ex-Excuse me?"  
  
Phlox turned to face him. "This man is Charles Tucker III. The scans of this man are identical to the Commander Tucker you once knew, down to every last cell."  
  
"Couldn't someone have duplicated that? They could be trying to fool us into believing that this is Trip." argued Archer.  
  
"If that's the case, this is the most advanced cloning that I have ever seen. They have copied Commander Tucker perfectly."  
  
Archer pondered this a moment. "Trip died, doctor. We found his body, buried it. How could this be him?"  
  
Phlox sighed. "Captain, I am a physician, not a psychiatrist. You asked me to tell you if I thought this was the real Charles Tucker. I have given you your answer. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to sickbay."  
  
With that, the doctor turned around and left the brig, Malcolm not far behind.  
  
Now he was alone in the room, except for the two guards at the door. He was weighing whether to go in the cell and talk to Trip or not.  
  
He looked at his former friend, as he slept on the small cell's bed.  
  
He would come back in the morning, he decided.  
  
Then he could get some answers. 


	3. Chapter 2

Trip woke up from his slumber by the sound of tapping.  
  
"Stop it." he groaned, turning on his side to see the source.  
  
"Jon?!" he gasped, rubbing his eyes.  
  
Jon smiled sadly. "It's me."  
  
Trip rose from his bunk and stepped closer to the cell's doors. It was then he noticed a long scar running down the side of his best friend's face.  
  
"Jon...your face..." Trip mumbled.  
  
Jon reached up and traced the scar from his forehead to his chin. "Yeah. It certainly is quite noticeable."  
  
"Sorry Jon, I didn't mean it-"  
  
"It's alright." interrupted his friend, "It was 3 years ago."  
  
"Th-Three years ago?" stuttered Trip. //Had it been that long?//  
  
"Yes. It was during a fight with the Tor'Eigh. My face got in the way of one of their knives."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Like I said, it's in the past. Now, I want to talk about you. How did you get here?"  
  
Trip sighed. He had knew this was going to come.  
  
"Are you ready for this? It's a long story..."  
  
Jon nodded. "Whatever it takes."  
  
"It all started one day in...."  
  
********  
  
Jon sat quietly in his office, a hot cup of coffee in his hands. The story Trip had told him was unreal.  
  
To think, they had all...  
  
//No, I can't think like that!// he thought to himself. //That's a path I don't ever want to explore.//  
  
He sighed. It had been a long day, and all he wanted to do was sleep. He headed to his quarters, barely keeping his eyes open.  
  
He pressed the door release and stepped inside.  
  
"Dad!" a voice called out, a little figure running out at him.... 


	4. Chapter 3

Trip rested his head against the wall. So much had changed. Jon, the ship, everything that he had seen so far was different. Maybe coming back hadn't been the best thing to do.  
  
He sighed. The guards wouldn't even talk to him. Jon had said that he would come to talk to him again today.  
  
Just as he thought that, the door opened with a swish. Trip waited as the visitor talked with the guards then approached.  
  
"Hoshi?!" he exclaimed, rising off the bed.  
  
She smiled at him. How he had missed her smile. Her wonderful smile lit up her eyes, her face, everything. On the planet, before he had changed the timeline, he had seen her body. Without the smile. It had killed him inside, knowing the one he loved would no longer smile.  
  
But here she was now, alive and well.  
  
"Hello, Trip." she said, her voice a melody to him.  
  
He walked to the door of the cell, so that he could be closer to her. She hadn't aged a day. Her black hair was still radiant, her face unmarred by time. She looked like the one out of time, not him.  
  
"Hoshi... I've missed you." he said, struggling to speak.  
  
"I've missed you too." she said, lifting her hand to tuck a wayward piece of hair behind her ears.  
  
It was then he noticed it. The ring that sat on her finger, gleaming in the light of the brig. He caught his breath and struggled to stay standing.  
  
"Are you all right, Trip?" she asked, worry lining her voice.  
  
"I'm fine." he replied, steadying himself.  
  
There was a moment of silence between them, the years of separation evident in the air.  
  
It was Trip who finally spoke. "How have you been, Hosh?" he said, for a lack of a better subject.  
  
She smiled once again, although this time it was different, sad almost. "I've been good. Life's been kind to me, for the most part."  
  
"That's good." Trip said, the mood once again becoming awkward.  
  
Hoshi cleared her throat softly, as if preparing herself for what she had to say next. "Look, Trip." she started, looking him straight in the eye, "Times have changed."  
  
"What do you mean?" he asked.  
  
She looked down at the floor. "I thought...I thought you were dead. I saw your body Trip, and I couldn't..couldn't believe it." She looked back up, and Trip saw the tears glistening in her eyes.  
  
"Hosh-"  
  
"No." she said, interrupting him. "I have to finish this. I loved you Trip, and you loved me. Then you died, and...and I couldn't take it. You left me Trip, left me alone." At this, the tears started to fall.  
  
"Oh Hoshi..." He moved right to the edge of the cell and reached his hands past the tritanium bars. He touched her arm, and reached for her hand.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, moving away from him, "I have to go." She turned and left the brig without another word.  
  
Trip fell back onto his bed and closed his eyes. 


	5. Chapter 4

Jon Archer watched his son play. The little boy sat on the ground, small models of cars and trucks around him. He ran them back and forth, bumping them together and making sounds.

Jon smiled. Charlie had a simple life, uncomplicated with the troubles of the adults around him.

Speaking of troubles, Jon still had to deal with the return of his son's namesake. He wanted to believe that it really was Trip, that his best friend had returned from the dead, but he couldn't be sure of it. After all, Trip had been dead. 

He'd seen his body with his own eyes.

A sigh escaped from his mouth. He'd get to that problem later. Right now, he was content in watching his son play.

*****************

Dr. Phlox hummed to himself, puttering around his sickbay. He pondered quietly the situation with Commander Tucker, and what the captain would do about it.

For his part, Phlox was certain that the man in the brig was no clone. The genetic structure was too detailed, too precise to be a clone. Besides, no culture that they had yet encountered was remotely capable of producing a clone so 

intricately made.

The door to sickbay opened with a swish behind him. He turned to see Captain Archer standing before him.

"Ah. Captain Archer. Just the man I wanted to speak to."

The captain shuffled about, studying the various creatures and organisms on the nearby table.

"Are you sure that this is Trip?" he said when he finally spoke.

"I am quite sure Captain, although with our level of medical expertise, I cannot be certain. Anyone that could have replicated Mr. Tucker so well would have to be-"

"-A higher species. I know, Doctor." said Archer, interrupting. He sighed. "Thank you, Doctor. If you'll excuse me, I have someone to see."

With that, the captain turned around and left.

Phlox looked after him for a moment, then went back to his work, humming once again.

****************

T'Pol sat on the command chair on the bridge. All was quiet, and there were no problems.

But she was still troubled.

Emotions ran deep beneath her calm, Vulcan exterior. The apparition of Commander Tucker two days ago had caused her to seriously doubt her own beliefs.

The man had been dead. She had seen his body with her own eyes, ran her scanner over him twice to confirm what she had all ready knew. 

Charles Tucker III was dead.

She had watched her crew suffer through this, but did not convey her emotions like they did. They held a wake, cried, shared memories. But she did not participate in their purely human traditions.

She felt the pain of his death, a man she had come to know and respect, but could not show it.

So she meditated. 

She released her inner pain, and came to an understanding and acceptance of what had happened. She had moved on, and so had the crew.

When Lieutenant Reed had found him in a corridor, her carefully constructed wall of Vulcan beliefs shattered to the ground. A man that had been dead could not alive.

But there he was. She had seen him, unconscious, in sickbay. In the five years since his death, he had not aged a day.

Scientifically speaking, there was no natural way for a dead body to come back to life. Artificially, a body could be cloned, and then it would be technically alive. 

Those had been T'Pol's first thoughts when she had seen Commander Tucker. Doctor Phlox, however, had soon said that it would be impossible to have a clone so perfect.

She was very confused, or as confused as a Vulcan could get.

She would have to meditate on it tonight.


End file.
